


don’t let this magic die

by canvases (oilpaints)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 15:53:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10468611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oilpaints/pseuds/canvases
Summary: Shirabu and Semi don’t really get along. By some twist of fate, they wind up sharing a room at the Leaky Cauldron after running away from their respective homes.Both plan on cutting ties as soon as they return to Hogwarts, but cramped rooms have a way of getting even the coldest of people to open up, often in the most unexpected and magical of ways.





	

**Author's Note:**

> sorting tends to be pretty big debate regarding how aus, so apologies if you don’t agree with their houses! this story was never meant to spiral into something over my usual 2k words but OH WELL. hope you enjoy!
> 
> edit: look at [this](http://ichigomaniac.tumblr.com/post/159338939971/i-read-this-really-cute-semishira-hp-crossover-and) absolutely beautiful art for this fic by ichigomaniac! i have no words, it’s so beautiful <3

  _ **BEWARE OF PURISTS ROAMING NEIGHBOURHOODS**_

_We warn you all of a number of purists that are threatening parents of muggleborn witches and wizards in their own homes. Thankfully, they are a relatively small organization and many members have already been caught, but it is still wise to keep a watchful eye._

_We assure you that we are doing everything in our power to get this distressing situation under control,” says the Minister herself._

Shirabu scowls at his copy of the Daily Prophet. With growing anger and unease, he crumples the newspaper into a ball and tosses it into the garbage can by his desk.

On his tabletop, accompanied by circular water stains and old books that fill his small room with the smell of almonds and vanilla flowers, is a letter. The parchment is old and there are nonsensical equations scribbled along the page, and the words “from Kawanishi Taichi” are written on the back in a familiar scrawl. Shirabu opens it again to write a reply.

Searching for a ballpen—because honestly, using a quill and ink is nothing if not impractical, and he’s a practical person—and a clean sheet of paper, he assures his best friend that all is well for him, save for some sightings close to home.

He folds the message into a paper flower, the petals round and teasing the tops of letters. It’s the small kind of thing Kawanishi delights in, he muses as he ties it to his owl’s right leg with a stray piece of soft yarn.

“You remember where Taichi lives, I’m sure,” he says, unlatching the cage to pat down downy feathers. “Come find me when you get back, okay?”

He watches his owl spread her wings wide as she perches herself to the window and takes for skies, a biting slash of silver cutting through the cloudy grey looming overhead. She leaves the curtains stirring in her wake.

Shirabu lingers before he closes his window, eyeing the first beginnings of nightfall. He draws the curtains tight before turning around.

His eyes land on the crumpled newsletter, and the assortment of mundane, non-magical items arranged along his desk. Downstairs, he can hear his parents watching some kind of old tv show.

He draws his wand.

 

* * *

 

With a grunt, Shirabu drops his trunk onto the pavement. He rolls his shoulders before sitting on top of it, huddling under the night sky as it blankets him.

He throws his head back to listen to a windsong stir the leaves overhead and clicking of the cicadas as they hide somewhere amongst the stalks of grass. He swears that, for a moment, he catches the glow of a firefly before it darts far off into the starless night.

A drop of rain lands cold on his head, and it trickles down his forehead. Shirabu sighs, touching the wet spot, before holding out his right hand.

He winces at the sudden, overwhelming yellow glow of headlights and the loud screech of tires. A sudden wind slaps his cheek and tosses his fringe into his eyes, and holds up an arm to shield himself from the brightness.

It goes still once more.

Blinking dazedly, he lowers his arm to see a purple double-decker bus looming over him. Annoyed, he gets up and tries to untangle his hair with his fingers as the door slams open.

“Are you Shirabu Kenjirou?”

“That’s not how you say my...” he cuts himself off with a sigh, heaving his trunk up. “That’s me. I payed in advance.”

“Why do you think I asked? Come along, come along, we haven’t much time.”

He’s shoved into the bus right before it starts pouring, where he’s met with the warm glow of candlelight and beds arranged in rows. There’s an old man lying on one, with a boy in a nightcap dozing off in the corner. On another, there’s...

Semi Eita, of all people, sitting there like he hasn’t a care in the world.

Their eyes meet, and Shirabu just starts to search for the bed is furthest from him when he grins his annoyingly lopsided smile and gestures to the one next to him. Shirabu purses his lips and scrunches up his nose, but he tosses his trunk next to Semi’s in the end.

“Semi-san,” he says, straining to keep polite. “What—”

“—are you doing here?” Semi finishes for him with a smile. Unbelievable, Shirabu thinks as he throws himself onto the bed next to his. The mattress is soft but springy, and the sheets are starch-white. He sinks into it all.

“And here I thought you couldn’t be any more insufferable,” he hears himself saying as he rolls over, surprised to the the bed bolted down to the floors. They must’ve made some changes since _A Wizard’s Guide to London._

“Thanks, I try,” Semi replies dryly as rain starts to stream down the small windows, partly covered by striped peach curtains. “You never answered my question, you know.”

Shirabu glances up to stare at him in disbelief, his hair falling over his eyes. “You never let _me_ finish _mine_ ,” he retorts as he starts to sit up. “I—”

He never gets to finish that sentence either, as the bus starts with a screeching halt, before speeding along again and throws him unceremoniously on top of Semi, who steadies him with his eyebrows raised over his gilded eyes. “You alright?”

Glancing up, he sees Semi’s hair glowing in the candlelight, the edges looking like burnt coals as the flames set his ash blonde hair aglow.

“ _Fine_ ,” he snaps, heart jumping to his throat as he tries to steady himself. “Just f—”

The bus lurches again and he curses as they’re both set sprawling on top of each other, foreheads knocking. Pain sears along his face, and when he pulls away, Semi’s lip is bleeding and his mouth is raw red.

“This is a disaster,” Semi grimaces, licking his lips but recoiling at the taste. Shirabu gets up unsteadily, but the bus darts left and he nearly falls backwards. Semi steadies him by grabbing his shoulder, and he pulls away like he was just set on fire, plopping down onto his bed.

Eyeing Semi’s mouth warily, he draws out his wand and points it at his face.

“What the...”

“ _Episkey_ ,” he mutters, healing the wound with gentle magic. “Just wipe the blood off with some tissue, and you’ll be fine.”

Semi hesitates. “Thanks,” he says, drawing his fingers to his lip. “We never learned that spell in class.”

Shirabu rolls his eyes. “I read it in a book,” he answers absently, eyes wandering the bus. The boy in the corner is still asleep, sheets bunched to his chin while the old man snores in his own bed. A candle or two have been blown out, but he doesn’t trust himself to do a small fire spell without accidentally setting the curtains aflame. “Maybe you should try it.”

“I’ll add it to my to-do list, then,” Semi says dryly.

“Just a suggestion,” Shirabu says simply, clinging to the cold metal bars of his headboard to avoid being thrown on top of him again. Sure enough, the bus swings dangerously to the left, and he sighs heavily.

It hasn’t even been a day out of the house yet, and everything is already taking a downward spiral—slowly but surely, he can tell.

The Knight Bus continues to speed along the rain-slicked streets, and he allows himself to breathe and await the destination.

 

* * *

 

The destination, in the end, is The Leaky Cauldron, a rundown pub-slash-inn by the borders of Knockturn Alley. It probably wouldn’t be so bad if Semi wasn’t kicked out of the bus along with him.

Eyeing the weather-worn building and the lone streetlight above it, Shirabu sighs and turns around just in time to see The Knight Bus leave and carry on with speeding into the night, chasing away the mist.

“Come on,” Semi says, looking over his shoulder as he makes his way to the entrance. “You’re gonna get sick, standing in the rain like that.”

Shirabu blinks before regaining his bearings. “ _Locomotor_ ,” he says as he raises his wand, the spell lingering in a small cloud of his breath. His trunk scrapes itself off the cobblestone streets and scurries after him and into the inn.

He breathes a sigh of relief as he escapes the night air and it’s chill, his trunk scraping along the creaky wooden floors. People were scattered along the tables and bar stools, drinking foaming butterbeer or tinkling glasses of sherry that sparkle in the candlelight.

He catches up to Semi, and they wordlessly walk towards a woman behind the counter.

“Ah, yes,” she says, smiling warmly at them and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “One room for two, I gather?”

“No, I—”

“Alright,” Shirabu says, cutting him off by opening his wallet and rummaging through his money.

“What the _hell_ ,” Semi hisses at him, eyebrows furrowed. “Do you _want_ to share a room with me?”

“If we’re going to stay until school starts, we’re going to need to save up. I don’t know about you, but I have a pretty limited budget.” Shirabu sighs and meets his eyes, raising an eyebrow. “If you don’t want to share, that’s just as—”

“No,” Semi shakes his head, “it’s fine. We’ll split the room payment, though.”

“All the same to me. I mean, that was _the_ plan,” Shirabu shrugs, sliding his share of galleons along the tabletop.

The lady smiles at him kindly and says, “Room three has two beds, and it’s all yours,” before handing him the rusty key with room tag attached to the ring. He thanks her quietly, dipping his head politely before turning around and casting a quick flight spell on his things. His luggage trails after him as he makes his way up the stairs.

The wood starts creaking behind him, and Semi says, “You still haven’t answered my question, you know. Back at the bus.”

Shirabu sighs, running his hands through his mussed up locks. “I’m pretty sure you’ve already heard about the pureblood extremists running around and cursing muggleborn wizards’ parents. I didn’t want risking mine getting caught in the crossfire.”

“And they were sighted close to your neighbourhood so you just—ran off?”

He snorts, tossing his hair out of his face. “You’re one to talk,” he says. “Besides, I used a small memory altering charm on them. They think I’m already at Hogwarts.”

“You’re _incredible_ , that’s to say, _incredibly awful._ I can’t believe you just—” Semi pauses as they come to a stop by their room. Shirabu’s lips twitch as he opens the door, pushing it open to reveal a dimly-lit and dusty room, the curtains open to reveal a sliver of moonlight.

“Well,” Semi says, taking in the cobwebs, the worn-looking beds shoved on opposite corners of the room, and the empty vase on top of the lone table, “this is something.”

Shirabu resists the urge to roll his eyes, directing his luggage to the bed closest to the window. “It’s ours for a while, and you’ll just have to deal. Light the candles, and we’ll be fine.”

“It’s just not what I expected,” Semi says, dragging his things to the other bed. He wanders around, lighting all of the candles in the room with small fire spells. “This is perfectly fine.”

Shirabu gives in and rolls his eyes, walking over to a corner of the room. He takes out his vine wand and says, “ _Orchideous_ ,” as he flicks it upwards. A bouquet of yellow tulips burst from the tip, and he catches it mid-air. “There we go,” he says softly, tucking the flowers into the emerald vase, smoothing out the petals.

Semi turns to look at the flowers—a starburst of colour in the grey room—and quirks a smile. “That’s better.”

Shirabu shakes his head, smiling faintly as he mutters the same spell, tracing his wand in a circle to form a cluster of pine leaves bundled into a wreath. He hangs it on a hook by the door.

“Smells great.”

Shirabu turns to see Semi already changed and sitting on his bed. “Well, it’s no mansion like yours,” he says, tucking his wand back into his sleeve, “but we’ll make do, I guess. It’s just four days.”

Semi chuckles softly, letting himself fall into his mattress. “Actually, we never have flowers back at the manor,” he says, “so it’s a nice change of scenery.”

 _Oh_. Shirabu glances out the window, listening to the soft pitter-patter of the rain, and the even sounds of Semi’s breathing. Only now, as he glances around the cramped, dimly-lit room and spots Semi’s bag, already open and spilling out clothes onto the floorboards, does he realizes just what he’s gotten himself into.

 _It’s just four days_ , he remind himself. Four days of sharing a room with _Semi_ , of all people, but stil—he’s been through worse, right? _Right_.

He clears his throat. “Semi-san.”

“Hm?”

You never explained why you’re here, Shirabu wants to say, but Semi looks calm, splayed along the sheets and framed in moonlight. He’s not willing to rock the boat just yet. Tomorrow, maybe.  
  
He bites his tongue. “I’ll go get changed and shut out the candles myself.”

“Alright, I’m going to bed, then.”

Shirabu finds something soft enough to sleep in, then walks around as quietly as he can, blowing out each candle himself as it continues to rain outside, the chilly night air seeping in between the gap in the window. That can be fixed in the morning.

He doesn’t linger by Semi’s bed when he catches the way the firelight gets tangled in his ash blonde hair.

 _That would be foolish_ , he thinks. Then he gets on his toes and blows out the last candle.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, his owl comes swooping through the window, carrying the early morning sunlight and a roll of parchment along with her.

“Hello, Kaede,” Shirabu says, putting his book away to greet her where she’s perched on the windowsill. He tugs on the knot tying the letter to her leg, carefully taking out the message and unrolling it.

“Who’s that from?” Semi asks, looking up from his textbook.

Shirabu skims through the letter, twirling a lock of hair around his finger absently. “It’s just Taichi checking up on me.”

“Who?”

“My best friend,” he says as he rolls the message closed again. “Do you know Ravenclaw’s beater? The one with the ginger bed head? Him.”

“Oh, _right_. I know Kawanishi,” Semi chuckles. “He almost knocked me off with a bludger, once.”

Shirabu snorts as he runs his fingers through Kaede’s feathers. “That happens every game,” he says, peering out the window. It overlooks the empty street below, and he watches the puddles ripple as the breeze ruffles his hair. “You always get so focused on finding the Snitch that you’re easy picking.”

Semi stares at him, exasperated. “I’m a Seeker. It’s my _job_.”

“So am I,” Shirabu replies. “Focus is important, but if you get too absorbed you get knocked off your broom by a Bludger and get switched out.”

Semi furrows his eyebrows, fingers ghosting over his forehead and wincing at the memory. “That was one time, and Tendou probably did that on purpose—”

“I caught the Snitch right before you fell.” He huffs a laugh. “Let’s hope that doesn’t happen again this season.”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it,” Semi says, resting his cheek on his palm. Hufflepuff’s going to win the tournament this year.”

Shirabu raises an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge?”

“Nope,” Semi smirks. “It’s a promise.”

Shirabu’s lips tug at the corners. “You know, Semi-san, you talk big for someone who’s not even done with their summer homework.”

“I’m better at Quidditch than I am at schoolwork.” Semi pulls a face before turning back to his scroll, not a single word written on it.

Shirabu opens his mouth say just that, eyes gleaming, when Semi glares at him half-heartedly. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he says, pursing his lips to hide a smile. “Anyway, Semi-san, since you’re not making progress, maybe we should go down and eat lunch.”

 

 

* * *

 

“Well,” Shirabu sighs, grabbing a clump of his hair. “I’m not very fond of soup, and that’s all they serve here. Do you happen to know any food charms?”

“Yeah, I do, but—” Semi stops to stare at him, face disbelieving. “You don’t? I thought you were, like, some kind of genius at spell-casting or whatever.”

He runs his fingers through his hair, sighing. “It doesn’t matter. We need to eat.”

Semi raises an eyebrow. “You were the one who wanted lunch. What do we do now?”

His eyes wander to the condiments table, where a pitcher of lemonade and several cups are stacked, along with a note— _warning! possibly fatal to health_ —that catches his eye. “I can buy you a drink. Explosive Lemonade, for example.”

Semi stares. “Did you just make a joke?”

“No. That was a genuine question. I want to see just how fatal it is.”

Semi laughs lightly. “I hate to disappoint, but I don’t really like lemonade. Too sour.” He quirks a smile. “Wanna head over to Diagon Alley, instead?”

“That,” Shirabu says, “is the only good idea I’ve ever heard you say.”

 

* * *

 

Shirabu stares in—although he’d never admit it—awe at the glittering window displays of the shops lining Diagon Alley, showcasing anything from strange, sparkling globes to shiny textbooks to the latest broom. He’s still not fully used to the glamour of magic when put in something as mundane as shopping centres.

A lady with a flower hat jostles him as she hurries along the and he grimaces, scooting closer to Semi as more people rush past. He’s not fully used to the sheer number of people doing last-minute shopping before school starts.

Semi smiles at him, shifting the bag full of vegetables and bread they bought from a tiny stall squashed between a second-hand bookstore and a tea shoppe. “Need me to hold your hand, Shirabu?”

He pulls a face, inching away from him. “Touch me, and I’ll hex you to hell.”

Semi just laughs, holding up his paper bag, stalks of celery and loaves of bread poking out. “Remember, I’ll be making your food for the next two days. Be nicer.”

Shirabu ignores him and eyes the fairy lights strung along one store, enchanted to spell out messages and sing a cheery jingle whenever someone passes by. He sighs when gets shoved back into Semi’s side. “Where are we going, again?”

Semi smiles some more. His grin has always fit awkwardly on his face, one corner hitched up higher than the other, eyebrows raised like he’s smirking. Shirabu has never wanted to bite someone’s mouth so badly. “You get to pick.”

Shirabu twirls a lock of hair between his fingers and doesn’t reply when catches a whiff of cinnamon, the scent wafting along the cobblestone streets. He grabs Semi by the wrist, and pulls him along the crowd, following it.

“ _Hey_ , what the hell are you—”

They stop in front of a small store tucked in the corner of the street, with a red roof and a sign so faded it’s unreadable. Shirabu let’s go and pushes the door open, and they’re met with the warmth of an oven fire and the smell of apples and cinnamon. The tables and chairs are mismatched, and almost all are are occupied. Chatter and the hustle and bustle of baking fill the room, and Shirabu has to duck when a salt shaker zips past him.

After taking their orders, they take a seat by the only empty table in sight. Semi sinks into his cushioned chair while Shirabu settles himself awkwardly on a stool so high that his feet barely touch the floor. The window next to them is so wide the the sunlight outside all but floods in, and he flinches at the brightness.

“Hey,” Semi says, pulling out an apple and a slice of bread from their bag of purchases. “Watch this.”

Shirabu raises both eyebrows, but he does as he’s told.

Semi draws out his wand and pokes his tongue out the way he does when he’s trying to focus—it’s endearing, almost—and moves his hand in unfamiliar patterns. The bread folds into itself to make a crust, while the apple slices itself into tiny pieces, tucking themselves into the pie crust, which weaves itself shut.

Semi’s eyebrows furrow. “I forgot the heating charm.”

Shirabu laughs lightly, pointing his wand at the tiny pie, dusted in cinnamon that Semi probably summoned from the kitchens. “ _Callesco_ ,” he says, and it warms itself until it’s baked and steaming. He glances up at Semi. “That was impressive,” he blurts out before he can stop himself.

“Thanks.” Semi beams. “I never thought I would hear that from you.”

“I’m not that unappreciative,” Shirabu starts to protest just as Semi’s plate of peach cobbler comes swooping in. His own coffee settles itself in front of him, and just as he reaches out to take it, a teaspoon splashes into the drink.

Semi grabs a fork mid-air and raises an eyebrow at him. “Of course you’re not.”

Shirabu glares at him, about to protest when his sandwich arrives and their meals are all on the table. Semi smiles at him for no real reason, and his heart jumps to his throat.

He shoves it back down with a gulp of black coffee.

 

* * *

 

 

The bells strung along the doorway jingle merrily on their way out.

“So, where to, next?” Semi asks, holding the door open for him. Shirabu steps out the small restaurant and back out onto the streets, not looking back to see if he’s following or not. Semi falls into step with him, anyway.

“A bookshop, maybe,” he answers. “I need something to read on the train to school.”

Semi chuckles. “Let me guess, you’ve read all of the assigned textbooks already.”

“Not all of them. _Care for Magical Creatures_ just isn’t my subject,” Shirabu says absently, keeping an eye out for one of the many libraries and bookstores found in Diagon Alley. He spots the faded blue sign for Obscurus Bookus and tugs at Semi’s sleeve once before heading off to the quaint little shop amidst the hustle and bustle of the streets.

The second Shirabu steps in, he has to duck to avoid a book flying around aimlessly, flapping its pages and bumping into shelves and knocking other books out of place on their already messy shelves. Another one is lying open on the table, the words swirling to form a small breeze so that the paper and pages close to it start to flutter.

He smiles faintly, twisting a lock of hair around his finger before he steps in. The floorboards creak under his foot, and three paper cranes lying on one table start to stir. One of them bristles to life when he takes another step, swooping through the air to greet him by spinning around him and tickling his cheek with the path of wind it creates.

“Cool,” Semi remarks in a quiet sort of awe, holding up a finger for the crane perch itself upon. He studies the words slanting down its wing and disappearing into the folds, wondering what spell was cast upon it. He flicks his finger and grins when it takes to the skies once more. “I’ve never been here before.”

“I wonder why,” Shirabu says, rolling his eyes. “You’re not exactly a big fan of reading for fun, right?”

“Yeah, but that’s because nothing ever moves or comes to life. Well, not in any of the books I’ve read, at least,” Semi says, gaze flicking to a shelf where water drips from between a book’s pages, the droplets pooling into the wooden floors. A rainbow streaks the small puddle, the light trickling in from the small, crooked window. “I’ve never thought much about charmed books, before.”

“You’ve had all your life to think about them,” Shirabu says, picking something out from a pile. He flicks the cover open, and the title paints itself along the first page in swirling strokes of shimmering gold. “ _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ ,” he reads aloud. “What’s this?”

“You’ve never heard of these?” Semi asks incredulously. “My mom preferred telling me Japanese tales as a kid, but she always read a few passages from this book for me before bed every now and then. Fairytales. That’s what Muggles call them, right?”

“Right.” Shirabu nods, lips twitching at the corners. He flips to the index, where several story titles etch themselves along the page. “ _Babbity Rabbity and the Cackling Stump_ ,” he reads, laughing a little as he does. “What kind of title is that?”

“I’ll have you know that was my favourite,” Semi says, before smiling back. “Well, mostly because of the stupid title, but still.”

“ _The Warlock’s Hairy Heart_ ,” he says next, eyebrows raised. “All of these have such weird titles. What happens in this one?” Shirabu traces his finger along the index to find the page, but the book’s pages start to stir, flipping along for him.

“Oh, that one’s messed up,” Semi says, leaning back against a shelf. “The only story there that isn’t child-friendly, I think.”

“Well, thankfully I’m not a child.” He rolls his eyes, flipping to the next page. A picture paints itself vividly along the pages in bold strokes to form a young warlock with messy hair and a velvet cape slung over his shoulders, sneaking into the dungeons to tuck his heart into a crystal casket the shimmers in the dim candlelight. Shirabu raises an eyebrow. “Well,” he says, “that’s one way to avoid falling in love.”

Semi peers over his shoulder. “He dies in the end.”

Shirabu bats him away. “Don’t spoil it for me,” he says, flipping through the pages. “You know, mother used to tell me that the way to a man’s heart is through the chest, slightly to the left and under his ribcage. Preferably with something sharp.”

He looks up to see Semi’s eyes grow wide in surprise, and he smothers a smile, but his eyes turn up at the corners, anyway. “Don’t worry, she’s a surgeon.”

Semi looks even more bemused. “A what?”

Shirabu shakes his head. “It’s a Muggle profession. Hard to explain.” He shuts the book and says, “Well, I think I’ll buy this one. After that, where do you want to go?”

Semi grins. “Now that we’ve tried something you like, how about something I like?’

 

* * *

 

“I hate you,” Shirabu says. “You know how awful I am with animals.”

The Magical Menagerie is a lively store, definitely, with every spare inch covered in cages and crates, all of which are creating some sort of sound that fills the cramped room in a cacophony of animal noises. Shirabu already feels the oncoming headache threatening to split his skull in two.

Semi just laughs at him, cooing at a tawny owl resting in its cage. “You know how awful I am with books. It’s only fair.”

Shirabu glares at him.

“Semisemi! You’re here!” A familiar redhead sings as he comes barging into the store. Shirabu glares some more, and Semi sighs. “Oh, Kenjirou, you’re here, too! I thought you weren’t big fan of animals.”

“I’m not, Tendou-san,” he says curtly. “Semi-san was the one who dragged me here.”

Tendou perks up at that. “You two came here together?”

Semi punches his shoulder. “Don’t be nosy, Satori.”

“Ow! I was just curious. Last I saw, you two were trying to rip each other’s heads off on the Quidditch field. And _now_ ,” he beams, “you’re going on dates together. How cute!”

“It’s not a date,” they both snap in unison.

Tendou just smiles even wider. “Whatever you say,” he shrugs, before turning to Semi. “By the way, Eita-kun, I came to your place the other day, but your parents said you weren’t home.”

“I...” Semi purses his lips. “I was out.”

“Oh?” Tendou’s smile fades, and his eyes grow sharper. “What happened?”

Semi doesn’t reply, and instead glances at Shirabu. “Hey, I think I forgot to get carrots for soup. Sorry, you think you could go buy some real quick?”

They had bought carrots earlier, but Shirabu nods and turns around, leaving the store quietly. He knows dismissal when he hears it.

Pushing his way to the crowd, head spinning, he searches for the booth they bought their food from. Semi catches up to him after a while, still slightly out of breath like he was running, and asks where he wants to go, next.

The sun is setting by the time they make it back to their room.

 

* * *

 

  
Night falls, and Shirabu can’t sleep.

The room is dark in an eerie sort of way, the shadows twisting and coiling away from the slivers of moonlight streaming in through the window. The curtains are thin, spun as fragile as cobwebs, and they stir in the breezes that slip in through small cracks in the glass.

“ _Incen_ —fucking hell— _incendio_ ,” Semi murmurs, and Shirabu squints to see a stutter of orange flames light the candle by the other boy’s bed before flickering out.

“You’re moving your wand wrong,” he blurts out before he can think better of it, voice still laced with sleep. “You’ll put the whole room on fire at this rate.”

“Shirabu?” Semi croaks out. “Why are you still up?”

“I could ask the same of you.”

The curtains sway slightly. Soft hooting could be heard outside, where Shirabu had let his owl roam free; she’d been getting restless in her cage, nipping at the thin bars of steel.

“I’m not exactly...a big fan of the dark,” Semi says at last.

Shirabu raises an eyebrow at this—he never would’ve known. “You should’ve just said so,” he says, to both of their surprise. He reaches for his wand to cast a spell, a small stream of bluebell flames pouring out from the tip, condensing into a ball inside an empty glass jar that he always carries along with him. The fire licks along the edges of the class, a gentle warmth coating the insides. He uses a flight spell to settle it on Semi’s nightstand.

“Thanks,” Semi says, awestruck and embarrassed. “I’ve always been fond of these.”

Shirabu’s eyebrows furrow. “Pardon?”

Semi chuckles, the sheets rustling as he rolls over to stare at the flames—a familiar shade of forget-me-not blue—as they burn softly. “You always have jars of these scattered around the Slytherin commons when I visit Satori. They’re kind of…calming.”

“Oh,” he swallows, “well, the common rooms are always so dark. I can never get any reading done, so I found a spell in the library.”

“Of course you did,” Semi replies with a quiet laugh. “It’s the same back at my place. You think my family would learn to value eyesight over keeping their weird aesthetic.”

Shirabu doesn’t know what to say.

“What about _your_ parents?” Semi asks, thankfully not expecting him to speak. “Are you worried about them?”

“No,” Shirabu answers, and he finds that it’s not a lie at all. “They’ll be just fine. No one’s going to find them if there’s no magic energy in the house. They’re just normal Muggles without me around.”

“I’m sorry you had to go.”

“What are you even apologizing for? It’s not your fault.”

Silence drapes itself over the room again. Shirabu just starts to wonder if Semi fell asleep when he says, “I never told you why I’m here, haven’t I?”

“You avoided the topic.”

Semi laughs weakly. “I mean, it’s a bit awkward. You were involved—”

“ _Me_?”

“Yes, you. You know, the only Muggleborn Slytherin in centuries. The Pureblood community still hasn’t really understood that.”

Shirabu snorts. “They’ve had years to wrap their heads around it, and... Wait, does this have anything to do with you being sorted into...”

“Hufflepuff?” Semi finishes. “Well, I mean, they haven’t really understood that, either. I’m sort of the family disappointment like that.”

Shirabu frowns. “It’s been _years_ since sorting.”

“Yeah, but my younger brother started last year, he was sorted into Slytherin, and my parents have been up my case about it ever since.” Semi sighs. “You get the picture.”

“So you ran away?”

“Oh, no. Don’t get me wrong. I walked right out the front door and no one stopped me. They blew up, so I got up and left. They have all school year to calm down. I just want to go back to Hogwarts and leave it all behind me.”

“Does this have anything to do with all the extremists running around?” asks Shirabu quietly.

Semi chuckles sardonically. “Right as always, huh?”

“You wouldn’t have left just because of that. I’m sure it’s not the first time they’ve hounded you about it.”

“I sort of, well, they were saying that all those crackpots were doing the right thing, and I couldn’t jus stay quiet, you know? That would mean agreeing with them, and I would _never_ agree with that.”

Shirabu shifts awkwardly in his bed. He and Semi were never best friends by any means, since they were always too competitive and brash, so this is all strange territory. His heart was pounding in his ears, and with a jolt, he realized that what he was feeling at the moment was a twisted kind of adoration.

He shakes his head. No, that’s just dumb. Admiration would be a much better word. Adoration sounds too much like love.

“Of course you wouldn’t,” he mutters, shaking his head. “That’s just like you.”

Semi laughs, soft but sincere. “Thanks, I guess? I’m taking that as a compliment.”

“Whatever you say, Semi-san,” Shirabu replies, feeling like he’s breathing too loudly. The bluebell flames burn brighter, setting the tiny room aglow. Even the cobwebs look like stars, under their light.

The silence stretches out, and Shirabu can hear faint snoring from the opposite end of the room. With a faint smile, he turns around and closes his eyes.

 

* * *

 

‘Hello, hello! My, what an interesting mind you have. You love learning, how wonderful! You’d find a good place amongst the Ravenclaws.’

“Does that mean I’ll be sorted there?” 

‘Oh no, not necessarily. There are plenty of options. Say, you like to work hard, too, don’t you? That means there are traces of Hufflepuff lying around there, somewhere. Hm, but that’s not quite where I want to sort you, either... ’

“I’d like to be put wherever I’ll benefit the most, if I have a say in this.” 

‘How Slytherin-like! Oh, yes, now that I think about it, you would be quite the Slytherin...’

“But?”

‘You’re not a pureblood, see. Muggleborns don’t exactly fit in amongst the snakes. Still, you’re the picture-perfect Slytherin, blood aside. Whip-smart and ambitious. I’ve never met someone who burns to prove himself in such a quiet manner. Oh, but I’ll let you decide, my boy. You might not be welcomed until you’ve proven yourself worthy of their respect, so choose wisely.’

“If you think I belong there, then it doesn’t matter to me. I’ll make them see my worth if I have to.”

‘If you’re sure, then. Let’s put you in... “SLYTHERIN!”

 

* * *

 

His eyes flutter open, and he’s stirred from a dream he can’t remember. Dawn comes knocking on the window with its bony, rosy fingers, and Shirabu forces himself to get up and open it.

Semi wakes from all the noise, and he complains about being woken up for while, but he eventually figures out a way to spell a loaf bread into toasting itself and they eat breakfast on their separate beds.

Shirabu starts to read the Tales of Beedle The Bard, while Semi struggles with nonverbal magic all over again. Eventually, he snaps his book shut and says, “You’re wand is red oak, isn’t it?”

Semi runs his hands through his ruffled hair. “Yeah, why?”

He takes a seat next to him, taking his wand carefully to inspect it. “I read somewhere that they’re known to be a bit stubborn when it comes to nonverbal magic,” he says, tapping it once against the headboard before turning to Semi. “Would your wand let me use it?”

Semi shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

“What spell are you trying to cast?”

“The banishing charm.”

“Interesting,” Shirabu hums. “I heard you’re good at duelling.”

Semi raises an eyebrow. “I mean, yeah, sure.”

“Nonverbal spells are a good investment when it comes to duelling. If the rumours are true, then you can manage nonverbal spells just fine when you’re in battle. It’s probably the adrenaline. You just have to focus, and…” he taps Semi’s wand on his knee, and with a sweep of his hand, one of the cobwebs dangling from the ceiling disappears in a faint flash of white.

“You really _are_ incredible,” Semi blurts out, before his face sours like he never meant to say it out loud. Shirabu bites back a smile. “How did you do it? My wand doesn’t respond to anyone but me.”

“That’s because it’s as stubborn as you. It was fighting me every second of that spell, but my magic won out, in the end.” He tosses the wand back. “I won’t be able to do that a second time, though. You try.”

Shirabu studies Semi’s face as he tries the spell out again. His eyebrows are pinched the way that they get during games, and his eyes have the same sharp focus. His tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth, and he looks away, biting his lip. “You’re moving your wand too fast,” he manages to say. “That might work verbally, but you have to speak clearly enough in your head, or else it’s not going to work.”

A flash of red bursts from the tip of his wand, knocking the wreath hanging by the door off it’s Semi grimaces. “My aim was off. I think I moved my hand too much.”

“Well, you said it,” Shirabu says.

Semi narrows his eyes at him. “I’ll try to target you next, then.”

His lips twitch as he gets up, and Semi barely catches it. “Maybe someday, if you’re lucky and I don’t move. Using _depulso_ on people is a bit advanced.”

Semi raises his eyebrows. “It’s pretty easy.”

“I meant nonverbally,” Shirabu says, heading back to his book. “All spells are ten times harder when you can’t say them out loud.”

Semi just rolls his eyes and goes back to moving his wand around aimlessly. Shirabu catches glimpses of him as he flips the pages. After a few minutes, his book is knocked away from him and is sent tumbling to the floor in a flash of red light. He glances up to see Semi’s crooked grin and says, “Not bad.”

Semi’s smile grows wider, and a bit more genuine. Shirabu suddenly feels like his heart was the one knocked off the bed. “Although, if the pages are crumpled, I’m going to send you flying,” he threatens as he hops off his bed to retrieve the book.

“You already have,” Semi mutters under his breath.

 

* * *

 

“What are you reading now?”

He tears his eyes away from the looping letters stretching along the pages to look at Semi, who’s settling himself beside him. “I’m continuing _The Warlock’s Hairy Heart._ It’s an...interesting read.”

Semi watches the page paint out the last strand of hair that belongs to a pretty-looking maiden with hair like spun gold and eyes set like sapphires. The warlock watches from afar, not in love with her—without a heart, how could he?—but the idea of her. “It’s kinda dumb, pretending you love someone just for the sake of pride.”

“The same can be said about pretending you _don’t_ love someone just for the sake of pride,” Shirabu says offhandedly, but his fingers stop carding through his hair when the words ring true in his head, like an accusation to himself. He bites the inside of his cheek and hurries on. “Anyway, it’s not like it matters. It’s just a story.”

“Well, yeah,” Semi says, tapping on absently on a bush painted along the corners, and a watercolour butterfly comes flitting out. He accidentally nudges Shirabu’s elbow as he’s adjusting, and it sends his own heart fluttering like wingbeats.

Shirabu can already feel an oncoming migraine. He’s not dense, always known that he felt some vague, skewed sense of attraction to the other boy, but living with someone for four days really does bring unwanted epiphanies to the surface.

Glancing up, he can see that Semi’s bed sheets are rumpled, one of his pillows are lying on the floor, and his clothes are scattered around his bag. With a pang, he realizes that they’re leaving tomorrow.

He shakes his head, grabbing a clump of his hair and pulling a face. Don’t be an idiot, he snaps at himself, and he bites his lip when Semi chuckles at something in the book. You’ve been looking forward to school all summer.

He flips to the next page, fingers trembling ever-so-slightly.

 

* * *

 

In his fourth year, Shirabu learns about the benefits of selective hearing.

Everyone’s had years to get used to him—the muggleborn mistake, as they say—but still, there are always whispers following his back as he treads along the corridors. He doesn’t care.

It’s just that it’s gotten worse, he realizes, now that he’s the main Seeker.

He catches a dangerous glint of emerald eyes, and a boy—another one of the faceless, prejudiced purebloods, he supposes—steps closer, leering. He sighs quietly, bracing himself for whatever comes next, entirely too aware of his wand tucked in his sleeve.

He opens his mouth, but stops when someone grabs Shirabu’s elbow and glares at him. “Need something?” Semi asks sharply. Shirabu raises his eyebrows, just as shocked as the other boy, who’s eyes widen before snapping back into a sneer.

“You really are a blood traitor, aren’tcha, Eita?” he says, but he stalks off in the other direction, anyway.

“I would’ve been fine,” Shirabu says, watching his retreating back. He yanks his arm away, turning to look at Semi in the eye. “I’m not helpless, you know.”

He laughs lightly. “Oh, believe me, I know,” Semi assures him. “You never stick up for yourself, is all. Just thought I’d help out.”

“I don’t want to get expelled for fighting,” Shirabu says, simply. “The help was unnecessary, but—thank you, I guess.” He adjusts the books in his arms. “I’ll be going to class, now,” he says awkwardly. They’ve never had any proper conversations, before.

Semi waves him off. “Of course. Still, stick up for yourself, more. You know all those spells, so why not put them to use?”

 

* * *

 

“Can I watch you cast the spell?” Semi asks, sitting down next to him on his bed as he uncaps the lid of the fire jar. “I don’t get how you do it.”

Shirabu glances up at him, wand already poised. “Sure,” he says. “Didn’t your learn it during the fire charms unit in class, though?”

“Yeah, but not the way you make them,” Semi insists, and all Shirabu can think of is how close their elbows keep knocking against each other whenever they move. “Yours are always so soft, and they look a bit like flowers.”

He shrugs. “I kind of personalized it,” he admits, scratching his cheek. “We have bluebells in our garden, and they’re called _bluebell_ flames, so I played around with it a little.”

“I see.”

Shirabu turns away from him, tapping the his wand against the mouth of the jar. The clinking noise is high-pitched and silvery enough to stir his owl from where she’s asleep in her cage. A jet of blue fire pools out from the tip of his wand, and he coaxes them further into the jar, pulling his wand out so that they condense into a flowery shape, the flames flickering upwards like petals.

Semi takes the jar from him carefully, peering inside and tapping his nails against the glass. “Pretty,” he mutters. “You think I could burn Satori with these?”

Shirabu laughs, getting up to let his owl out of her cage. “You can try, but they’re not that harmful to humans,” he says. “The cap is right there, just close the lid or they might weaken.”

“Got it.”

Shirabu pushes the window open, and the night breeze greets him by ruffling his hair. He send Kaede out into the night, and she hoots as she cuts through the clouds. “You know,” he says quietly, watching her disappear into a speck in the sky, “it’s our last night here.”

Semi chuckles. “Finally, right?”

Shirabu feels a foreign feeling claw at his chest, something akin to longing, and for a moment, he burns like blue fire. “Yeah,” he echoes, trying to regain the steely edge to his voice that he always carries, “finally.”

“I think I’d do it again, though.”

He turns around. “Even the argument with your family?”

“Even that,” Semi says with a nod. Shirabu can’t see his face because he’s already lying down on his bed, but he wishes he could. “Spending time with you was much better than that, though.”

Shirabu fidgets with his sleeve, where he feels his heart stitching itself in red thread. “ _Anything_ would’ve been better than that,” he tries, shutting the window closed. “Please get off my bed, Semi-san.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Semi says, getting up. He looks vaguely disappointed, Shirabu notes. He presses his lips into a thin line. “G’night, don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

“I hope they bite _you_ ,” Shirabu retorts, just for the sake of it. Semi turns around to retort, but he catches the smile lingering at the corners of his mouth and grins back.

And maybe it’s for that reason that he says, “I’ll help you pack, tomorrow morning.”

Semi raises his eyebrows. “You’re actually playing nice, for once?”

Shirabu pulls a face at him and his dirty clothes flung all around the room. “If you don’t get help, you’ll never finish packing.”

He laughs. “I’ll take your word on that, then.”

 

* * *

 

Later, when they’re settled in and the only thing left between them is the blue flicker of flame and dust motes dancing in the air, Shirabu mulls Semi’s words over again and again.

_“I think I’d do it again.”_

“So would I,” he blurts out into the silence, shattering the tranquility to make way for something new.

“Who are you talking to, Shirabu?”

“You,” he says, because he’s got nothing to lose. “Earlier you said that you don’t regret this, and I agree. I—I’d do it all over again, too.”

He can’t see his face, but he thinks Semi might be smiling. “Go to bed, Shirabu, you’re delirious.”

He laughs, smothering it against his pillow, and all he can think about is how much he’s going to miss this, even if he’d die before saying that out loud. Still, he breathes all easy, because he knows that this isn’t the last of them.

It’s nice, having this cramped space to call their own, but there’s still years ahead of them, outside of this dusty room.

And so he says: “Don’t be dumb, Semi-san. If anyone here is insane, it’s you.”

“Shut up,” Semi replies. “I’m perfectly sane, thank you very much.”

Shirabu smiles at the ceiling, eyes glittering in the moonlight because he thinks Semi might share the sentiment. There’s Quidditch matches to play, books to argue over, and this isn’t the last of them.

“Sure about that?”

“Oh my God, you’re just as sane as me. Go to bed already.”

He’s laughing, though, and Shirabu laughs right back.

 

* * *

 

The next morning brings the sun and his owl swooping back through open window. Shirabu tucks her into her cage, settling it atop his trunk and neatly-packed bag. He thinks about last night’s thoughts, and how this isn’t the end, and smiles faintly to the clouds.

He walks over to Semi, who’s gathered all his clothes into a pile and thrown them over his bed. Shirabu laughs at him and pokes fun of his inability to clean, but he picks up the nearest shirt and folds it, anyway.

“I could kiss you right now,” Semi says, half-joking, as Shirabu helps him with the rest of his packing.

Shirabu only raises an eyebrow, trying not to give anything away. He juts his chin out defiantly in the sunlight, waiting. “So do it.”

Semi smiles warmer than any sun, touches the back of his head, and pulls him close, mouth just as warm as the smile that always seems to touch it.

“Imagine what my parents would think,” Semi blurts out as they pull away, red to the very tips of his ears.

Shirabu snorts. “Oh my God, I can’t _believe_ you’re thinking about your parents right now.”

“No, but listen,” Semi insists, eyes laughing, “they have three requirements, and you meet a grand total of one of them.”

“Alright, I’m listening,” he says, eyebrows raised and eyes glittering with amusement. “Go on.”

“Number one,” Semi says, pulling his hand off Shirabu’s shoulder to hold up one finger. Shirabu notes the sudden lack of warmth, but doesn’t say a thing. “Pureblood, of course.”

The corners of Shirabu’s mouth twitch. “Number two?”

“Preferably a girl.”

He grins, this time, and Semi can’t help but watch his annoyingly pink lips as they stretch over his annoyingly perfect teeth. “And then?”

“Preferably Japanese as well, but that one’s actually optional.”

Shirabu actually laughs at this, grabbing Semi’s shoulder to steady himself. “So it’s an optional thing,” he manages to say, “and I’m only half. They’re going to hate me.”

“If it’s any comfort, _I_ hate you a little less right now. I could even go as far as to say I like you a bit. Does it really matter what they think?”

“Well,” Shirabu says, a small smile gracing his lips, “I could go as far as to say that I can tolerate you right now, but I’m going back to hating you if we’re late to the train. You’re not even done packing yet.”

“That can wait,” Semi says, before he leans in to kiss him again.

 

(They have to run to the station because they’re late, dragging their trunks because the flight spell can’t seem to keep up. They’re both laughing in delight, and Shirabu thinks, for the hundredth time, that this isn’t the end—in fact, this is just the very beginning.

“Race you to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters!” Semi calls out.

“Oh, you’re on,” Shirabu says. And then he laughs some more because this is all so foolish, but he still manages to smile because can feel the sun hanging high in the sky, beating and burning just for him. And with that very same sun on his back, he starts running, Semi’s footsteps marching in tune.)


End file.
